Hungry
by wwonder
Summary: A girl knocks on a different door. A man chooses a different phone booth. An engineer shows up on time. How does this change things? AU. Chapter Three is Up, Now Completed.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"_Why did Mimi knock on Roger's door _

_and Collins choose that phone booth back where Angel set up his drums, _

_why did Maureen's equipment break down?"_

Mimi Marquez needed matches. The power had gone out, on Christmas no less, and she had a candle, but there were no matches to be found.

Mimi also needed some friends. She'd lived in this building for three months and still hadn't met any of the other tenants.

Figuring she'd kill two birds with one stone, Mimi picked up the candle and headed into the hallway. "Would you light my candle?" wasn't exactly the best conversation starter, but it was all she had.

She stood in the middle of the hallway, a door on either side of her. Either one was bound to have a match. Mimi always hated making decisions.

"My mother said to pick the very best one and you are it," she chanted, ending with the door on the right. She knocked, and it was opened a few minutes later by a tired looking woman with fiery red hair.

The woman made pleasant conversation, but Mimi had to confess herself disappointed. She had been hoping to run into the guy in plaid pants had seen earlier that day.

xxxxxxxxx 

Tom Collins knew he must have been homesick when he found himself enjoying the smell of New York as he walked its streets.

He was in an alarmingly good mood for having gotten kicked out of MIT. He'd get to see his roommates again, and Tom always loved to surprise people. He wished he could make a better entrance, but he didn't have they key into the loft anymore. A pay phone loomed in sight, so he grabbed the spare change out of his pocket, dropping a few extra coins at the feet of a street drummer as he passed.

Tom stopped just outside the booth as he smelled the stench of puke coming from inside. Sure, Mark could drop the key down from the balcony, but entrances be damned, Tom hated the smell of puke.

He walked down the street to the nearest phone booth, away from a shifty looking group of guys who seemed likely to beat him up for just the dollar in change he had stashed in his pocket.

xxxxxxxxx

Joanne Jefferson was not exactly sure why she had agreed to be Maureen's production manager. She couldn't remember, but she had a distinct feeling that a bottle of vodka had been involved in the decision.

The protest was only a few short hours away, and the damn equipment wasn't working. She didn't know how to fix it, didn't even know what it was supposed to do, exactly. She had called an electrician, but he was late, and now Maureen was going to call Mark.

And she'd be damned if she let Mark do her job. This was her job and her girlfriend. Not his.

She heard the door creak open, and the electrician lumbered toward the stage. Calling Mark will not be necessary. Thank God.


	2. Chapter 1 Redux

**A/N: So its been a long time for an update, and that is because of a lovely thing called summer gym that took up my whole day for two weeks. So sorry. But anyway, you are probably like "WTH? ch 1 again?" So I will explain. After reading the review from AlwaysWrite (Thanks for that, btw), I decided Chapter One actually sucked, so i re wrote it. Here it is. **

Chapter One

Benjamin Coffin the Third's life was hanging by a thread. That thread was going to break, and when it did, everything would come crashing down around him. He had a feeling that this thread just might break tonight.

The first of Benny's problems was his marriage. He loved Allison, but monogamy was not in Benny's nature. He'd had an affair three months ago with a beautiful dancer, and although he'd never told her about it, Allison must have known. If the tense silence between them was indication enough, she had always known this would happen.

He was never able to be there for her anymore. He didn't understand her. Just today, she had been crying, but all she managed to tell him before his cell phone rang was something about their dog.

And there lied Benny's second problem. The cell phone, carrying terrible news from work. A protest was being staged against their most expensive, important project, and it was his job to stop it.

Work. Why did he work for his wife's father? Surely, if his marriage ended, so would his job. He certainly couldn't go back to his old friends and old life. He had turned his back on the gang and they would never take him back.

Yet, the old gang was the root of his problems. Maureen's protest, which he had just learned about, was threatening the future of Cyber Arts. Calling the cops was not enough, this protest needed to be stamped out at the source. No doubt, if Maureen was involved, then so was Mark.

So he needed to ask his old friend a favor. Shutting off their power to get their attention, he hopped in his Range Rover and drove down to the loft. Working on Christmas, while his wife was at home crying her eyes out. Just lovely. But if Benny didn't fix this, his life as he knew it would be over.

Mark, Roger, and Collins were not exactly happy to see him. Benny's new attitude got the better of him, and his plea for help came out sounding more like a mixture of threats and bribery. They would never help him.

As Benny walked away from the old loft, he could feel the thread stretching, threatening to snap at any moment.

xxxxxxxxx

Roger, Mark, and Collins watched Benny walk away in silence, until Collins burst out laughing. "Is he serious?" he asked in-between laughs.

Mark joined in Collin's laughter. "I think he was!" he gasped. That Benny thought they would kick innocent people out of Tent City just so he could build a studio was hilarious. Was he so delusional as to think they would abandon their values like that? Mark let out something like a snort.

Roger doubled over in laughter. "And does he really think _you'd_ be able to convince Maureen?"

Mark straightened up. "I bet I could if I wanted to," he said defensively.

Roger and Collins only laughed harder. "When was the last time you convinced her of anything she didn't want to?" Collins asked.

He had a point. In Mark and Maureen's relationship, it was obvious that Maureen had always been the one in charge. Even if Mark didn't like to admit it, Benny surely must have known this to be true.

Mark chuckled. "Let's go inside. It's freezing out here."

The three friends shuffled into the loft, only to find it freezing and dark. They could only scrounge up a few scraps of paper left to light up, since they had thrown most of it out the window earlier. They huddled around the small flame and lapsed into silence, their mood dampened by their miserable surroundings.

"We got any food?" Roger asked a few minutes later.

"Nope," Mark answered, "No money either."

Roger looked towards Collins. "You?" he asked.

Collins shook his head. "I used my last quarters in the pay phone." He decided to leave out his foolish spending in tipping that drummer.

Roger let out a long, withering sigh. "I'm so damn hungry. When was the last time I even ate?"

Mark shook his head. Beyond a tea yesterday, he was at a loss as well. For the first time, the hunger in the pit of his stomach became painfully obvious, gnawing at his insides.

Collins brightened. "You guys would have loved the food at MIT," he began wistfully. "Like my breakfast this morning. Pancakes with sausages and scrambled eggs..."

Mark and Roger exchanged looks. Did he really think this was going to help?

"And then there was all that beer..."

"Would you stop fucking talking?" Roger barked.

"Woah, sorry," Collins said, "I was just trying to-"

"Well it's not working," Roger snapped, glaring at Collins and looking like he was ready to sock him. "You know, if MIT was so great, maybe you shouldn't have gotten expelled. But you just like to fuck everything up, don't you Collins?"

Collins stood up quickly, his chair scraping against the floor and falling backwards. Roger followed suit and they glared at each other across the tiny flame. Roger lunged forward, the firelight illuminating his angry features. They were really going at it by the time Mark managed to pull the two of them apart. "Just chill out," he said from between them.

Roger stormed away, out of the circle of firelight. Collins sunk back into his chair, nursing a black eye.

"I wish I had some ice for you," Mark said.

"It's fine," Collins said. "I was bound to get beat up sometime."

Mark let out a weak laugh, after which no one spoke a word, and the only sound was the quiet melody of Musetta's Waltz coming from the corner.

Mark shivered. Looking at his future, he could only see more miserable evenings like this ahead of him. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life, too cold and hungry to do anything, let alone make a movie? He didn't even have AIDS, but if he kept living like this, he was going to die young.

Everyone deserved a chance at life.

He stood up abruptly, snapping Collins and Roger into alertness. "I can't take it anymore!" Mark said, grabbing his scarf and sailing out the door.

Curious, Roger and Collins quickly grabbed their coats and followed their friend out into the cruel New York streets, too intrigued to remember that they were angry with each other.

xxxxxxxxx

Angel Dumott Schunard did not by any means need to be outside in the cold playing her pickle tub tonight. She had received a stroke of good fortune today, one that paid exceedingly well. All she'd had to do was play her drums outside an intimidating apartment building until an exuberant puppy fell to its untimely death.

But Angel played every night regardless, so she might as well be outside where the people were, making a few extra bucks. Besides, it was the best way she could think of to spend her Christmas.

The night was uneventful; Angel received a few tips here and there, but nothing of excitement had happened. Angel was itching to get up and go buy a pair of high heels with her tiny fortune, but she continued playing when she saw she had a listener.

She was a young, thin girl, who looked like she was so fragile she could be knocked over by a gust of wind. She was standing a few feet away from Angel, her eyes closed, and she was swaying to the beat.

When Angel finished the song, she looked up to find the girl still there, and still swaying. "Are you okay, honey?" she called out.

The girl looked up, and ignoring Angel's question, said, "That was really good. I wish I had some money to give you."

Angel let out a laugh. "Don't worry about it," she said.

They stood in silence for a few moments, and Angel was just about to play again when the girl spoke unexpectedly.

"I'm Mimi," she said, extending a bony hand.

Angel shook her hand, and replied, "You can call me Angel."

"You don't mind if I just listen for a few minutes, do you, Angel?"

"Not at all," she replied, "Go right ahead."

A few songs later, Angel's earlier suspicion was proved correct. Someone passed by them, moving so quickly he was no more than a blur, and the force knocked Mimi to the ground. The blur was quickly followed by two men, chasing and calling after him. "Mark, wait up!"

One of the men looked vaguely familiar to Angel, and as she was trying to place him, the other man helped Mimi off the ground. "Sorry about that," he said, and just like that they were gone, calling at Mark again.

Mimi stared after them for a few moments, her mouth agape. "Did you see what that guy was wearing?" she asked.

"No, was it something ugly?" Angel asked. Truth be told, she had been preoccupied by his friend, and not just because he looked familiar. It was because he was, to her opinion, one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.

"Plaid pants," Mimi murmured.

"That does sound ugly."

"Let's follow them," Mimi said, turning to Angel with a mischievous grin on her face.

Angel picked up her pickle tub and sticks, and they set off down the street after the men. From the way they had been running down the street, something was obviously up, something worth watching.

And even if it wasn't, well, that was only part of their reason for following them.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Maureen Johnson downed a glass of ice water as she watched Joanne scurry around backstage, checking on lighting conditions and microphones and the television screens. According to Joanne, Maureen should be using this time to practice her lines.

Maureen scowled. She didn't like this at all. Performance art shouldn't be planned like this, it should be spontaneous and come from the moment, not planned out to include every dramatic pause. She'd never had _lines_ before. This is what she got for hiring a lawyer as her production manager.

"Hey Joanne!" Maureen called out the next time she flew by.

"Yes, Maureen?" she asked, pausing to shift a pile of extra cables in her arm.

"Well, I was thinking we should scratch this whole thing and I'll just perform whatever comes to me. I think a more intimate performance will be more effective to the audience."

Joanne narrowed her eyes. "You can't be serious," she said slowly.

"Of course I am." Why was it so hard for Joanne to see that she was right?

Joanne was about to speak when the door crashed open and Mark flew through it, looking deeply troubled and a bit deranged. Joanne managed to look even angrier then she had been when she caught sight of him.

"Mark, thank God you're here. Tell Joanne that all this planning will ruin the show."

Mark didn't say anything, instead coming up to her and gripping her shoulders, staring into her eyes and panting slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, Maureen saw Collins and Roger bound through the door, looking tired but slightly amused.

"Maureen, you can't go on tonight," Mark said, staring at her intently.

"Why not?" Maureen hoped his reason was plausible. Anything to stop her from going on and performing something _planned. _She'd lose all her credibility.

"I still love you!" Mark wheezed. "You have to come back to me!"

An angry growl escaped from Joanne's throat, and Maureen was worried that she was going to attack Mark, but she stayed in place.

"Mark, honey," Maureen said slowly. "I'm with Joanne now." She felt guilty saying this. It had never stopped her from cheating in the past.

Mark hung is head, looking close to tears. "But I need you!" he whimpered. Roger snorted. Maureen frowned. How could Roger be so insensitive to Mark's feelings?

"Don't you love me!" Mark asked, growing hysterical.

"Pookie, I-"

"This is what I was afraid of!" Mark said, finally letting go of her shoulders and sliding against the wall, sinking onto the floor. He let out a moan.

Maureen squatted next to him on the floor, grabbing his knee to hold herself up. "Mark," she said, "You'll always be special to me, but-"

She racked her brain for an excuse. She could say she was a lesbian, but she knew she would, and had, sleep with anyone. She could say she was with Joanne, and she was, but not exclusively, as Joanne liked to think.

"But I've moved on," she said, settling on an excuse.

"But I can't move on!" Mark said, his eyes pleading with her. "I think about you every night. I can't stop. I'm so depressed, Maureen. Sometimes I even think about... suicide." He said the last word in a whisper.

Maureen stares at him, appalled that her Mark could have such terrible, dark thoughts. When she heard Roger and Collins trying unsuccessfully to stifle their laughter, she turned on them, fire in her eyes. "Stop it! This isn't funny!"

When they didn't stop, she stood up, walking towards them furiously. "Get out!" she yelled, pushing them towards the door. "Joanne, you'd better go too," she added. "Me and Mark really should talk."

"Maybe," Mark suggested quietly, "We should go for drinks, and let them stay."

"You're right," Maureen said, hoisting him off the ground. Maybe some beer would cheer him up. "Let's go."

"But Maureen," Joanne called after the pair as they walked out the door, her whole body seething with jealousy. "What about the protest?"

"We'll do it tomorrow," she replied, rejoicing inside that she won't have to perform the ridiculous act. "One day won't make a difference."

xxxxxxxxx

"Well, I had no idea Mark was such a good actor," Collins said, fishing around inside his coat for a cigarette, watching as the large metal door closed behind Mark and Maureen.

"You mean he wasn't being serious?" asked the woman in the corner, who Collins still didn't know, a look of relief stretched across her face.

"Yeah," Collins replied. "Mark's not that emotional. But what I can't figure out is _why_ he's acting."

"Hey," said Roger to the woman, "Aren't you Joanne? Maureen's girlfriend?"

"Yes," said Joanne stiffly. "And her new production manager."

Roger snorted, and Collins remembered all the things Mark had to do when he'd held the job. "Sucks for you," Roger said.

"I'll have you know, Maureen and I have a great relationship, working and otherwise."

Having lived with Maureen and Mark during their relationship, both Collins and Roger knew that this statement was highly unlikely, due to Maureen's promiscuous behavior and controlling nature. Collins was detained from commenting, however, when he found a cigarette in the last pocket of his jacket. Roger wisely decided to keep his moth shut.

"Collins and Roger, right?" Joanne asked, pointing at each of them in turn. They nodded, and she continued, "Well, I hate to leave you, but I'd better go tell all the people the protest's canceled."

_Convince Maureen to cancel her protest. _Benny's words from earlier popped into Collin's head uninvited. "Oh shit!" said Collins, putting two and two together.

"What is it?" Roger asked.

"Mark. He must be taking up Benny's offer!"

"He's selling out?" Roger asked, concern etched on his face. "Why?"

"I have no idea. But he can't be thinking. He's going to regret this tomorrow."

"We have to go find them!" Joanne said from across the room, obviously eager to separate Mark and Maureen.

"Yeah," said Collins, stubbing out his cigarette. "Let's go." They threw open the door and chased after Mark for the second time that evening. Maybe they were inventing a new Christmas tradition.

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After following the two men to the performance space, Mimi had been eager to sidle up to the guy in plaid pants and introduce herself to him. However, the men had gone straight through the door to backstage, and considering the noises coming from inside, Mimi and Angel had judged it best not to go in, but to wait for the men to come out.

It was an interesting myriad of sounds coming from inside. A high-pitched, distressed voice was mostly heard, followed by a soothing woman's voice, and sounds of occasional laughter from near the door. Mimi and Angel couldn't resist listening at the door.

It seemed that Mark, the one who the men had been chasing, was pleading with his ex-girlfriend, who had left him for a woman, to take him back. It seemed to Mimi that his words were too over-the-top to be real.

For fear of being caught, they would periodically scurry away from the door when it seemed someone was going to exit. After a few false alarms, Mark, accompanied the woman, left together.

"Well, I hope they're happy," Angel whispered as they leaned against the wall in what they hoped was a casual manner. Mimi couldn't stop herself from giggling.

A few minutes later, the men burst out the door, accompanied by yet another woman, and broke out into a run. Mimi let out a moan of disappointment. "Why are they always running?" she asked.

"Do you want to tail them again?" Angel asked.

"No," Mimi said, knowing that they would only lose them again if they tried. "We need to take action." And then she was off, going as fast as her shoes would take her, and soon found herself next to the guy. "Where's the fire?" she asked, sliding her arm through his.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but said, "We're trying to stop our friend from ruining his life."

"And the entire soul of bohemia," added the other guy, who was now accompanied by Angel.

"Sounds tough," Mimi said, "Want some help?"

The guys exchanged glances, and then the guy in the pants shrugged. "Sure. I'm Roger."

"Mimi," she replied with a wicked smile.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Roger asked as the group set off down the street. "Besides from when I helped you up earlier."

Mimi knew exactly where he had probably seen her before, at work. But she just gave him a thin smile. "Beats me."

Roger and Collins explained the situation to Mimi and Angel as they searched for Mark and Maureen at the nearest bar. When they weren't there, they searched bar after bar, moving throughout town.

"This is hopeless!" Joanne said, exasperated, after searching their fifth bar. "We won't find them in time to save the protest _or_ to stop them from sleeping together!"

Joanne's jealousy might have been funny if the entire future of Tent City wasn't at stake. Mimi sighed. "There's one more place we can try."

"Where's that?" Angel asked.

Mimi took a deep breath. She hated telling people about her job. "The Cat Scratch Club. That's where I work." At everyone's confused expression, she elaborated. "I dance."

* * *

Thoughts? 


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Once Mark had gotten Maureen away from the protest, all he had to do was make sure she couldn't go back. The simplest, and least illegal, way of doing so was to get her drunk out of her mind.

And knowing Maureen, that shouldn't be too hard.

Mark chose the Cat Scratch Club, the local strip club, as the locale for Part Two of his scheme. He liked women. Maureen liked women. It worked out perfectly.

At first Maureen had been sympathetic to his "predicament" and wanted him to talk about his "feelings", so Mark had continued to keep up his charade and stared miserably into his glass. But after Maureen got a few drinks into her system, she began to care less about him and more about stuffing dollar bills into the dancer's G-strings. She was too drunk to notice that Mark wasn't depressed anymore, and that he was actually rather enjoying himself as well.

After watching a couple of dances, Mark figured he should give Benny a call to ensure he would be getting what Benny had promised. He was a bit shocked that he found a quarter in his pocket. Benny picked up his cell phone on the first ring, actually sounding happy.

"It's Mark," he said shortly.

"Mark Cohen!" Benny said with a chuckle. "I don't know how you did it, but you did it! Thanks to you, Cyber Arts lives on!"

Guilt seeped into Mark's system. Thanks to him, homeless people would have to find a new place to live. His friends would hate him. He already was beginning to hate himself.

"Just tell me you'll give me what you promised," Mark said stonily.

"Of course!" Benny said. "All of you guys!"

"No," Mark sighed. "No one else was in on it."

"Shit! How'd you do it all by yourself?" Benny asked.

Mark heard someone loudly clearing their throat behind him. He slowly hung up the phone and turned around. He knew exactly who was standing behind him, and it was time they had a good talk.

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"So why'd you do it?" Roger asked casually, flicking away the end of his cigarette.

"Hi, guys," Mark said nervously, eyeing Mimi and Angel suspiciously. "Who are they?" he asked Roger.

"Where's Maureen?" Joanne asked, "What have you done with her?"

Mark jerked his head towards the bar, and the group turned to see that Maureen had joined the dancers on stage, and was shaking her hips in a maneuver only she could pull off, her drink sloshing down the front of her shirt.

"Maureen!" Joanne called as she ran towards the bar in a panic, "Get down from there!"

Roger turned back to Mark to see him observing Maureen with interest. He punched him roughly in the arm to get his attention. "Mark, what the fuck did you?"

"Well, I kept thinking about what Benny said, and after awhile... it started sounding better and better."

Collins let out a low whistle. "Shit."

"I mean," Mark continued, running a hand through his hair, "I just really want to make a movie."

"Couldn't you have done that anyway?" Mimi asked.

Mark hung his head in his hands. "I know," he moaned. "I'm an idiot."

Roger stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped towards Mark. "What happened?" he asked in a low voice. "You were always the strong one. What made you snap?"

Mark explained what had been running through his mind as he had sat in the dark loft. He told them how he feared for his life, but that he mostly feared a life devoid of any artistic accomplishment.

Roger thought this was pure bullshit. He thought about these things every single day of his life. He had AIDS. He _was_ going to die, but Mark only feared he was going to. Hell, Mark was one of those people who would probably live to be 100. Mark didn't think he could make a movie? Then what exactly was he doing with his camera? He filmed everywhere he went, whereas Roger couldn't think of the words to make up his song. Anyone could see that Roger had it a lot worse, but you didn't see him running to Benny.

Mark spoke up again. "But, you know what the last straw was?" he said. "I was just so hungry. Hungry and frozen."

"You know," said Collins, "You don't have to take anything from Benny."

Mark was silent for a few moments, then shook his head. "I've got to take it," he said. "Or else this will all have been for nothing."

Roger stared at his best friend in shock. This was so unlike Mark. He didn't understand it at all. Mark had changed, and Roger was filled with sharp dislike.

"I guess that makes you the new Benny," Collins mused.

"No!" Mark said quickly. "I don't want to lose you guys!"

Roger shook his head as he slowly backed away from Mark, anger coursing through his body. "That's not how it works," he said quietly.

"I promise I'll send you guys money for your rent," Mark offered. "Every month."

"No," Roger said coldly. "We don't want your money." He turned sharply on his heel and exited the club, hoping he would never have to see Mark again.

Mark watched Roger leave in silence. The rest of the group followed him out the door, Maureen looking like she was going to pass out, all of them sending Mark hostile glares. A deep pain began to gnaw at his insides. He thought this is what Benny must have felt like.

This was the end of the life Mark had known. He looked around. There was no one here to help him, or to convince him that he had done the right thing.

This was the end, and he was alone.

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Benny hung up his cell phone with a smile. The thread had not broken at all. In fact, he had a feeling the thread no longer existed. His life was secure, for the first time. Everything was going to be all right.

His job was perfectly safe, and now all that remained for him to do was fix his marriage. And he was heading back to his apartment in high spirits to do just that.

Benny surveyed the area around them. He had never appreciated that the neighborhood he now lived in was actually nice to look at. He'd been to wrapped up in his own problems to see it. But now that his life was virtually problem-free, he was able to appreciate the soft white snow and the sparkling Christmas lights. He had forgotten how much he used to love Christmas as a kid. This was the happiest Benny had been in a long time.

But as Benny entered his apartment, his happiness came to a crashing halt. The whole apartment was dark except for the lights hanging around their Christmas tree. He entered the living room to find Allison curled up on the couch, crying her eyes out.

Benny silently sat next to Allison on the couch. He picked her up and held her to him. He soothed her tears as she told him about Akita Evita. He didn't even like the dog, but he still found himself truly upset about her death.

After Allison had cried out all her tears, the couple decided to make the most of their remaining Christmas Eve. They sat by the tree like children, tearing at the wrappings on the presents they had given each other. Over eggnog, Benny told Allison how he had managed to shut down Tent City, after which they fell asleep watching _It's a Wonderful Life_. He fell asleep peacefully, with no idea how many lives he had affected that day.

**Fin.**

* * *

A/N: So yes, I know this story _could_ be continued, but I've decided this is a good ending spot. In fact, this story was originally meant to be a stupid one-shot in which Benny found he could indeed shut down an entire tent city and then watch It's a Wonderful Life on tv. (Ha Ha) But then it evolved, as ideas tend to do. So I hope you've enjoyed my first (and hopefully not last) RentFic. There may be an epilogue added in the future if I feel so inclined. It will probably tell you how Angel and Collins and Roger and Mimi end up getting together. (Because you know they will.) But no promises on the epilogue. Thanks for reading, and please leave more reviews!


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